


The Last Thing I Need Is You

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bossy Bottom General Hux, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren The Awkward Virgin, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hux discovers that maybe Kylo Ren really was raised by wolves -- because surely, <i>everybody</i> knows what a fuck buddy is.</p>
<p><i>Surely</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Thing I Need Is You

**Author's Note:**

> I have a terrible habit in this fandom of seeing art and just getting _inspired_ , and [here is the gorgeous piece](http://supernovablisters.tumblr.com/post/143917457629/apparently-it-takes-me-four-thousand-years-to) that got my feels going on this one. Because I've been wanting to write Bossy Bottom Hux for a long long time, and never really quite worked out the logistics of it. And then this picture set off the Imperial alarm in my head and dammit, here we are. Just a shameless excuse for my favourite trope of Awkward Virgin Kylo Ren combined with Hux being snarky as hell even as he's having the time of his life.
> 
> So: thank you as always to those of you still out there reading my self-indulgent weirdness (because I'm avoiding going back to that longfic still, dammit), and to [@supernovablisters](http://supernovablisters.tumblr.com) for drawing such a wonderful piece and then graciously saying yes when I creeped in ye olde messenger to ask if I could write something for it. I hope it's okay. <3

The argument began, as so many others before it, on the bridge. The actual shouting hadn’t started until Hux had relocated them both to the conference room. Apparently he had standards to maintain. Ren personally thought that ridiculous – that the bridge staff would benefit from seeing their general red-faced and screaming – but it was more fun for him when Hux really let go. And he never would, in front of anybody else but Ren.

The problem had been Hux being purposefully obstructive. The _Finaliser_ was a shared command between them, yet Hux had never forgotten that it had first been his ship alone. The moment Ren made a command decision without his input, all hell broke loose. Ren had been perfectly entitled to take that squadron away with him. As far as Hux was concerned, Ren might as well have committed high treason against the Order.

But then, as Ren lazed indolent against one wall – such casual disregard enraged Hux more than his usual looming silence – the general moved on to other grievances. The man could hold a grudge like no-one else Ren had ever met. The reason why was simple enough; on the few occasions Ren had caught a glimpse of Hux’s mind, he’d found it clinical in its order, and as expansive as any galactic system. With that kind of logical power at his command, Hux seemed pathologically incapable of forgetting a damn thing – including every slight ever committed against him by Kylo Ren.

There was a hidden benefit for Hux, at least, in his endless haranguing. Ren rarely broke anything during their arguments. He found it far more intriguing to watch Hux himself: pacing, gesticulating, rattling off trespasses in a neat and orderly list that never seemed to end.

At least he’d put the datapad down; despite his remarkable memory, Hux used it to schedule the lives of everyone aboard both base and destroyer. He apparently had an entire subdirectory devoted to Kylo Ren, given he pontificated upon it now at great length. His voice now, loud and carrying, was his orator’s voice. It could not be termed _pleasant_ , but rather: arresting. It forced everyone around him to listen.

“You’re not even _listening_ to me!”

Ren blinked, though it wasn’t as if Hux could see anything more than his head jerking up. “What?”

His teeth gritted, grinding, Hux flung a hand in his direction in high disgust. “Take that mask off.” Then, when Ren did not move, “ _Now_.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll take it off myself.”

The way he approached said he intended to do exactly that. With a lazy flick of fingers, Ren won that round. The motion held Hux back – not a true Force hold, just a nudge, a wall of pressure to keep him some three feet away.

Hux took it badly. With eyes widened to white-ringed fury, nostrils flaring, all his usual grace under fire had quite evaporated. Ren frowned even as Hux’s twisted face went white, lips narrowed to fierce slit, eyes now almost the grey-blue tumble of a sea whipped to hurricane disorder.

Such interest could only break his concentration. Hux was upon him a moment later, hands at his jaw; the hiss of the release mechanism broke loose even as Ren moved to jerk his whole body back. Hux yanked the mask free, tossed it aside – and then, ever a man to bait a bantha right up until the last, he shouldered his way so close their noses almost touched.

“ _I will not be ignored_.”

The hissed words flecked spittle onto his face, and yet, Ren could not look away, could not raise a hand. Hux had seen him without the helmet, and more than once. But never had he come so close. And yet, for all his analytical mind, Hux was not taking advantage of it. With hands fisted in his cowl now, Hux held him close, held him still. But his eyes remained locked on his, unmoving.

“Kriff,” Hux whispered, and fell silent.

Ren’s brow furrowed, his own eyes searching right back. The scent of him proved oddly sweet: his cologne, something never noticed before. A faint hint of freckles stood out on his pale skin, made ghostly pale by his habit of staying so often indoors and shipside. The translucent gold of surprisingly long lashes struck him as almost incongruously delicate, next to the cold eyes – eyes with fine lines at their corners, and smudges of black beneath. These were gentle wounds of sleepless nights; the deeper ones were worn inside. And his lips, deeply pink and generous enough when he wasn’t scowling, suddenly half-opened on a word that never came. A hitching breath escaped instead, sudden and short.

“ _Kriff_ ,” he said, again, and let go. Ren frowned even as the general turned away, hands clenched to fists at his sides.

“My quarters. Ten minutes. Don’t be late, I’m still on duty.”

“What?”

Hux snorted, something far more in keeping with his usual self than the entire exchange immediately beforehand. “If you don’t want it, don’t come.” Whirling upon a smartly polished heel, he made for the door, and then a moment later was gone.

Alone at the opposite end of the room, Ren frowned. It was entirely too late to delve into the man’s thoughts. It bothered him, that he had not even thought to when he’d had such blatant opportunity. But the odd expression upon Hux’s face had been far more intriguing – an unexpected vulnerability, echoed by the strange fragility of his body up close. Ren possibly could have slipped right in there and plucked anything he wanted from that stiff structured filing cabinet he called a brain.

But he had never been so close – not to the scent of him. The _heat_ of him.

Running a gloved hand back through his hair, Ren wondered what the man wanted. A continued argument in his rooms, perhaps. Any challenge to a fight would have been better carried through in a gym facility; he supposed Hux’s quarters were large enough for a fist fight, though the man surely wouldn’t want the fallout of a physical altercation scattered around his own personal space.

He supposed there was little doubt those quarters would have good soundproofing, which could only be a benefit for their favoured kind of argument. But the conference room had the same insulation in spades; all the better to prevent sensitive information from reaching unintended ears. In truth, he had no idea what Hux wanted.

With such thoughts tangling together in his mind, Ren might have just let it go. But the general’s words remained emblazoned upon his mind, that challenge given in his neat clipped Imperial accent.

_If you don’t want it, don’t come._

Reverse psychology had been a particular weakness of his. While he doubted Hux realised as much, the man wasn’t an idiot. Ren felt justified cursing his name as he released a hissing breath, bending to retrieve his helmet. Only when it was back in place did he exit the room, striding quick through the corridors. Hux quartered near the bridge; it seemed odd that the man even bothered with such a thing, seeing as he rarely left the damned place anyway.

Before the door, Ren found himself held still by a sudden perplexing thought: he had no idea whether he was expected to knock, or just trip the security with the Force. A moment later it slid open, and Ren wondered if he somehow already had without realising. Then, a voice from within summoned him deeper still.

“In here.”

Hux stood at the far end of the main room, lean silhouette before the viewport. With hands folded behind his back, he frowned out over his ship. Greatcoat, gloves, hat, boots, even: all were gone. As he gazed upon the general in his shirtsleeves, Ren’s abdomen tightened, strange and hot sensation curling low in his gut.

“General—”

“Don’t make me take that helmet off again.”

As an only child, particularly as a something of an overlooked one, Ren had been accustomed to a certain amount of coddling. Yet he silently removed the helmet, set it aside without further instruction. “What is this about?” he asked, wary enough; Hux did not turn, though from this angle Ren could see the faint furrowing of his pale eyebrows.

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” And he snorted, pursed his lips together, glaring at the ship beneath his sight as if he’d just noticed some terrible flaw in her monstrous construction. “Forgive me for not offering you a drink, but I can’t dawdle here. I’m still on shift.”

At that moment, Ren began to wonder if the Force had decided to tear a hole in reality itself. “A _drink_?”

“Well, it does make things easier,” he said, though what those things were remained a mystery as he turned, walked quickstep away. “Come.”

Thoroughly bewildered, Ren kept pace behind him. He couldn’t deny his curiosity, though Hux’s bedroom held little in the way of surprises: a neat and orderly bed, nightstands bare of anything but lamps and his datapad, said lights set to dim glow. No particular personality stood out amongst the standard issue gear, save for the rather remarkable painting on the near wall: a seascape of some considerable skill. Troubled and gloomy, it had been rendered in blues and greys and deep viscous purples; it reminded Ren of bruised skin, of low pulsing pain and throats crushed to choking. He could not look away from it.

“Arkanis.” Hux’s voice rose from the direction of his bed, the slow didactic instruction of a bored teacher as he rifled about behind him. “What with all the rain, the sea was never calm – not that I ever remembered, anyway.”

“It’s very beautiful.”

A light snort said all Ren needed to know about Hux’s opinion of his artistic appreciation. “That’s not why I keep it.”

“So why do you?”

“My mother painted it.” From the shifting sound behind him, Hux’s impatience had begun to grow on an exponential scale. “But I’m not here for idle talk.”

“Then why—”

Ren had only managed a half-turn when he stopped dead. With the viewport’s shutters wide open, the entire star-studded sky provided an obscenely elegant background to the bed where Hux reclined. Utterly naked.

“Stop staring at me like an idiot, and take your clothes off.”

Though his mouth opened, no sound emerged. By way of an answer Hux only rolled his eyes, one hand already slipping down low. There, between narrow pale thighs, thickly-sheened fingers twisted around his cock; half-hard already, it rose from a riot of red curls just slightly darker than that upon his head. As his heart felt to have crawled into his throat, Ren could only watch as Hux’s hand moved, all glistening slick rhythm as the thumb circled the reddening flush of its head.

“What are you doing?” he croaked, throat tight and full. Hux scowled, and for a moment they might as well have still been arguing on the bridge.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Drawing in a deep breath, he released it slow, eyes glazed and yet still sharp beneath as he added, “If you’re going to make my life a living bloody misery, you can at least give me some pleasure with it. Get those clothes off, and get over here.”

For the first time in many years, Ren almost surrendered to the child’s instinct to turn and flee. But Hux’s hand drew his eye, held his attention as if slaved to it: the clever flick of the wrist, the sheen of fisting fingers. His cock proved long, surprisingly elegant. The other hand rose, passing over the narrow chest; Hux was so very _small_ , without the bulk of uniform and greatcoat over shoulders and chest. Thoughtless, his tongue moved over his lips, found them as dry as his mouth. Beneath his robe the trousers had grown uncomfortable, too constricting of that within.

With a click of his own tongue, Hux let his head fall back against the pillow, lips curled in easy scorn. “If I wanted to get myself off, Ren, I wouldn’t have asked you here.”

“So why did you ask me here?”

Allowing his head to fall to one side, Hux glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Because I need a good fuck. And it’s clear you could make yourself of use that way. I saw how you were looking at me.” A hot flush began to rise from beneath Ren’s collar, burning shame even as Hux scowled deeper, hand working faster. “Would you hurry up? I left the bridge to Mitaka, and he’s had so much caf today his hands are shaking. I really must talk to him about that. And then that lower port weapons array—”

“ _General_.” It came out gruff, almost trembling; his hands moved to his belt. Another snort, and then Hux tilted hips with the long sinuous movement of his back.

“Good.” He almost smiled, lower lip caught beneath neat white teeth. “Do hurry up, I’m close enough as it is. And I want your dick in me before I come.”

A choked sound did its very best to escape his throat; Ren could hide it only by ducking his head, tugging the cowl up and over. Clumsy fingers and racing thoughts made for slow and contradictory movement. He could not help but be glad Hux had no Force sensitivity of his own; Ren could not have stood the man’s inevitable scorn, had he caught even a second of Ren’s tumbling thoughts. But Hux’s own mind lay wide open before him: languid, desirous, golden and simple. Craving, even as his fingers twisted about his dick, pushing it to full hardness.

His own cock pulsed painfully hard by the time he finished stumbling out of his clothes; it had been a long time since he’d given such pleasure any real thought. Turning, Ren fought the sudden urge to cross one hand over his chest, dip the other low. Hux, moving up the bed, allowed his eyes to turn critical now as he raked them over his naked body. As gooseflesh rose Hux meandered over chest, stomach, thighs: only then did he focus on what lay between them.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” he breathed in clear glee, and his dick clearly twitched in his stilled hand. “Get over here.”

Ren had always thought the man a strange creature indeed – but before, that strangeness had only been found in his lack of fear, his resistance to Ren’s mind probings, his fanatical dedication to a cause Ren himself followed only as long as it provided what he needed. But he could not walk away from this. Drawn in by that dizzying kaleidoscope of thought, Ren found himself unable to look away; Hux’s mind was all heat and pressure and _pleasure_ – and it only seemed to brighten, becoming ever more vivid as Hux drank him in. And then, as he came down upon the edge of the bed, Hux snatched out around his shoulder, drawing him down between his thighs.

“Give me your hand.”

A moment, and his two longest fingers were coated in the cold, slippery lubricant. Hux paused not at all, pushing that hand down between his legs, eyes storm-bright challenge.

“Well?”

Uncertain, Ren could only met that gaze with his own, dark and wide. But the clearest thought in Hux’s mind came to Ren as if Hux had screamed it aloud: in. He wanted them _in_. It didn’t seem to matter that Ren had absolutely no idea how to go about doing that – and when he shifted his hand down, fingertips dragging light the small furl, he could not even begin to imagine how his thick fingers would fit into such a space. Or why Hux would even _want_ it.

And yet Hux was already hissing in a sharp breath, pushing back against Ren’s fingers. They slipped inside with a startling ease; his gasp was masked by Hux’s own deep groan. And then, in a sharp shift of hips, Hux drew him deeper still.

“Dammit Ren, don’t _tease_.”

Swallowing against a hard throat, Ren wouldn’t have been able to speak even had he any words to hand. One of Hux’s bony ankles kicked at his hip, and he jolted; it shoved his fingers deeper even as Hux tossed his head back with a strange whine. The heat of him, hard and demanding, clenched tight – and then Hux’s hand clamped about his wrist, thrusting Ren deeper. Even as he opened his mouth to complain, he felt a strange slide over fingertips: this time Hux actually _cried out_ , eyes bright and furious and delighted.

And he pushed against, fingers bruise-sharp around Ren’s wrist. “Keep _going_.”

Another thrust, and Hux’s hand fell away, back arching and mouth opened on unvoiced words. Ren could only watch, darkly fascinated. With a twist of his wrist his thumb skittered over the soft warm fuzz of his balls; then, he moved the over the skin that stretched back to where his own fingers shifted inside him. With an experiment push, Ren felt the shudder of delight climbing the other man’s spine. Even as he grinned, made to do it again, both Hux’s hands caught about either side of his face, forced it up so their eyes met.

“When were you last tested?”

Ren’s hand stilled. “What?”

“ _Medical_.” And Hux scowled deep, forced his hips forward to take those fingers deeper. “When was your last _medical_.”

“I – I don’t know.” Even as he moved his hand, saw the flicker of silver-shot pleasure across those strange eyes, Hux’s fierce glare did not waver. “Not long ago. I guess. Why?”

Now Hux stared at him as if he were an idiot, though Ren wasn’t the one with his co-antagonist’s fingers shoved firmly up his ass. “Were you clean?”

The demand left him very nearly offended. “Yes!”

“And how many filthy holes has that thing been in since?”

This time, the words tangled on themselves; his flush of earlier had returned in hot vengeance, creeping across throat and chest in time with the quick fierce pulse of his heartbeat. “None.”

“And before that?”

Ren couldn’t even manage a single word for that. The dawn of realisation upon Hux’s features was a terrible and brilliant thing. Closing his eyes, he pursed his lips, breathed low: “Oh, _kriff_.”

In the silence that followed, Ren very carefully withdrew his hand. But as Hux’s eyes opened, narrowed, he seemed utterly unconcerned about Ren hurting him.

“I didn’t say _stop_.”

Something dangerously close to laughter bubbled up in his throat. Swallowing hard against it, tasting bitter gall, Ren frowned instead. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“No, it’s not, but then it wasn’t one in the first place. It doesn’t matter.” With his cock still flush against his pale abdomen, Hux kicked him again, this time with a knee to the gut. “Put those fingers back in me. _Now_.”

But Ren did no such thing. Hux had been entirely right – this wasn’t a good idea, and never had been. But to have this man before him in such a way: the spread thighs, the high flush of a hard cock, the opened hole…Ren took a deep breath. It would hardly be the first time he’d leapt blindly into the unknown.

“You don’t want my _fingers_.”

The glint in Hux’s eyes was that of a fresh-sharpened saber, drawn to meet bold challenge. “Then hurry up.”

The lubricant lay upon the leftmost nightstand; Ren called it to him with a thought, ignoring the scoffing laughter from beneath. Instead he bent forward to hide the shaking of his hands. The cold gel clashed in welcome contradiction against the heat of his cock, the sharpened sensation only making it harder yet. One utilitarian swipe turned into two, three, then four; as his hand fell into familiar rhythm Ren’s eyes slipped closed, breath coming hard and heavy.

“Interesting as it would be to watch you bring that monstrous cock off,” Hux drawled, his voice now the sharpest blade edge of warning, “I’d much rather you did that inside me.”

Such a tone could be little else but a dangerous thing indeed; though Ren’s hand shuddered to a stop, Hux’s words prickled along his skin. Only his tongue caught sharp between his teeth held him back, one hand fisted in the ruin of his sheets as he gasped for loss of what had come so close. When he could glance up, it was only to find Hux watching still, head lazily tilted and lips pursed in mild disgust.

“You didn’t come already, did you?” He feigned a yawn even as his hand dipped low, played over the glistening space between his legs. “How typical that would be. Of you.”

A low growl rocked through his chest, animalistic, ravenous. Ren was on him in a moment. With one callused hand around his cock, Ren pushed in: too rough, and even in his inexperience he knew it. Hux didn’t care. With thighs falling wider, hips tilted in welcome, his pale chest arched upward like unleashed lightning as his head rolled back. Bright hair shifted stark against the grey of his sheets, arrested Ren’s gaze: fire upon ash, chaos and its inevitable burned-out end.

The inward motion slowed, stilled, Ren bottoming out before he even realised. And Hux’s thighs pushed tight against his waist, sweat-damp hair now falling in his eyes, lips stretched wide over gleaming teeth.

“Well? Aren’t you going to make yourself useful?”

The first thrust was a terribly uncertain thing, Hux scowling around it as his mouth curled around some fresh complaint; then, all turned to fierce groan at the continued drag of heat and pressure. Biting his lip, Ren thrust again, and again: quickening, fiercer and deeper. His own orgasm hovered above him like an executioner’s blade, dizzyingly close – close enough to catch, to swallow like a star so it might burn him inside as well as out. And there he paused, breathing deep, eyes stung with the drip of fresh sweat.

And when he glanced up it was to find Hux’s face, lazy and unimpressed. Yet the flush of his hard cock, and eyes almost black with pupils blown too wide, spoke to his arousal. One hand now grasped hard around Ren’s bicep. He could feel the strength of rumoured sniper training, in that. The other slid down through his hair; Ren hissed at the tangles Hux purposefully tugged at. A derisive smile, and then those clever fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, eyes dark blue-green storm as he cocked an eyebrow.

“Is that it?”

Ren said not a word. He only began to move, again – and slower, this time. That place that his fingers had brushed against earlier: he found it again now, this time with the head of his cock. Hux’s mouth, opened on some insult, rounded instead about some unspoken cry. His sharp eyes slipped closed, beneath those deceptively delicate lashes. Then his lips moved in something dangerously close to a smile as Ren did it again. One hand moved down, around his cock; there, Hux began to jack himself in time with Ren’s slow, deep thrusts.

With a sudden dark grin of his own, Ren moved his hand down so he might usurp Hux’s place. Even as Hux groaned, pushing it away, Ren held tighter; a gasp, escaped, said just as much as the brilliant flare of a pleasured mind.

“No.” Hux’s glare could have melted durasteel. Ren gritted his teeth, moved both hips and hand, spoke again. “No, I just…I can feel it.” And he closed his eyes, resisted the urge to rest his forehead upon Hux’s own. “I know how you want it.”

“Get out of my head.”

The growl twisted low in his gut, electric. “No, it’s…” This time he did laugh, low and gasping. “…you can’t stop it. It’s pouring off you.” His hand stuttered, and Hux’s mind bloomed with white-out brilliance as he breathed, “How you _feel_.”

“It’s just sex, Ren,” Hux replied, breathless and bored even as his body trembled before his own, and Ren gave another deep thrust.

“That’s enough,” he whispered. “It’s enough.” And Hux’s hand had already moved away, clutching again about his arm as Ren teetered terribly close to a plea. “Let me do this.”

Thrusting faster, now, Ren’s own pleasure had become secondary to what he could feel from Hux’s own mind. It felt almost too easy to fall to the rhythm of it – of chasing someone else’s desire. The noises Hux made burned through him like wildfire, forced him on so he might hear more. Ren had always known his general could be loud. His voice had been projected across parade grounds and hangar bays all across the Unknown Regions; Ren himself had stood languorous before it as Hux shouted himself hoarse the conference room. But this: this _moved_ him. Half-voiced insults, sharp requests, all now blurring into senseless moan and gasp. There was not an iota of shame in him, split open upon a cock with another hand working fierce about his own.

That orderly mind had turned tight, narrowed in upon a single desire. Hux came with a choking cry; Ren’s hand didn’t move, even as it coated his fingers in hot come. Only when Hux relaxed back into the bed did he withdraw. The motion came natural enough, though Ren couldn’t understand the instinct of it: to raise fingers to lips, tongue flicking out and over. It didn’t taste quite as expected; certainly he’d never tasted himself. But he did not stop – not until a choked sound from below had him looking down. There he found the general, eyes blown, mouth half-opened, entire body trembling as if on the verge of second orgasm.

“Hux—”

The man was already upon him; smirking lips closed around his cock, throat opening to take him dangerously deep. Pushed down and back, Ren’s hand shot up, sought purchase in that damned brilliant hair. Hux raised one hand to bat at him, half-hearted as his tongue slid along the throbbing vein of his cock. Ren gripped harder. With a humming sound closer to challenge than displeasure, Hux took him deeper still.

Ren had never really considered what this would feel like. Now, he found it to be nothing like those dim imaginings, for all he’d been so recently connected to Hux’s own pleasure. He’d known his own hand well, but even then found little interest in it. Such release had been of no real benefit to his training. And he’d had no-one he cared to share such intimacies with.

Between his legs, a feral and long-limbed thing of pale flushed skin, Hux drank deep, long white throat working about every spasm of Ren’s release. His eyes, wet and wicked, stared up at him with unflinching glee; then his tongue moved along the shaft of his cock even as his lips slid back in slick passage. The pop of its release, and then: a kiss, to the still-leaking head.

Even as Ren still stared Hux flopped over onto his back; so inelegant a motion, for this perfect droid of a general. Aside from their private arguments, Ren had never seen him as anything but carefully put together. But now, the broadened shapes of his uniform were stripped away, leaving him lean and long and lazy. The neat hair had been rendered a damp and bright ruin; sharp eyes lay half-lidded above a mouth reddened and raw, his cock even now half-hard between the languorous spread of pale legs.

Ren, for his own part, lay upon his back – though he could not look away, for all Hux stared only at the ceiling with a dreamer’s low peace. The shallow weight of his chest slowed as his breath reordered itself, became low and very even. And still Ren could not look away, even as common sense screamed at him to rise, to take his clothes, to leave.

And the general raised his hand to his mouth. With fingers pressed to his lips, tongue upon the tips, his smile was nothing but quiet vicious victory.

“I never do this,” Hux whispered, a thoughtful confession spoken aloud; Ren only blinked, very still at his side.

“Oh.”

“So.” Hux’s hand darted across the space between them; his fingers pressed to Ren’s lips in salty bitter tang, his own mouth curved in low smirk. Then he rolled back, reached a languid arm out for that damned datapad. “When are you free tomorrow, then?”


End file.
